


The Snape Saga

by Hanhanoria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Single Parents, Solitary Confinement, apathetic dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-22 00:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanhanoria/pseuds/Hanhanoria
Summary: Severus Snape is an undervalued spy with a secret home life. Can he hold all the pieces together long enough for the war to be won? SS/LV, SS/LM, eventual long-burn SS/HP Snarry. I'll go ahead and tag major character death, though who is tbd. #LongStory with Saturday updates





	1. Chapter 1

SEVERUS SNAPE:  
The pain in his arm woke him early and he wondered if something was wrong. He’d just returned from a summons a few hours ago, after all. Severus dressed as he walked toward the kitchen. A soft, glowing light came from the room he passed and he refrained from looking in. Typically, the warm burn summons, which he was currently experiencing, meant he had time to get there…or at least enough to use the floo. He poured a glass of pressed juice and drank it quickly to get his blood sugar up. “Dobby,” he called quietly.  
The little elf appeared and frowned. “Master Severus is off again. Dobby will stay.”  
“Thank you,” Severus said. The elf had always been kind to him, particularly those years he lived with the Malfoys. For whatever reason, the elf had continued to prioritize him even after he and Lucius had fallen out and had managed it even before gaining freedom. He put his mask on and flooed to his home on Spinner’s End before apparating to Malfoy Manor.   
He felt the wards poke and prod and grimaced at how much it tingled. They no longer recognized him as a resident of the home and had rather turned on him, as if personifying Lucius’ desire never to see him. He found the Dark Lord and Lucius seated in the sitting room enjoying spirits and kneeled before his master.   
The Dark Lord ran his boney fingers through Severus’ hair for a moment before banishing his Death Eater robes and mask. “We will spend the night as equals,” he said as he glared into Severus’ eyes. “Now stand, Shadow and join your Goose.”   
Severus held back his smirk as he straightened his clothing and sat on the sofa next to Lucius. The Dark Lord naturally had pet names for all of them. He’d always been Shadow –perhaps the Dark Lord saw himself in Severus, or perhaps it had initially been an insult regarding his tendency to trail around after Lucius. No matter, it had grown to a term of endearment that his fellow Death Eaters often envied. Lucius, for example, just barely tolerated his own pet name. The Dark Lord had commented once that the man resembled a blonde mongoose rather severely and it had stuck.   
He took the whisky offered and timidly sipped it. Though his tolerance was high, he thought, for once, to stall on the heavy drinking. After a moment of silence, he realized how odd it must look to their lord. There was a respectable 8 inches between them and they hadn’t been closer in years. Yet he hadn’t told the Dark Lord of their falling out and suspected Lucius hadn’t either –the man would expect them to relax in his company. He slouched a bit as he used to and casually moved closer. It wasn’t quite a surprise when Lucius draped his arm around Severus’ shoulders in response.   
The Dark Lord smiled his approval. “You’ve yet to tell me how the past 14 years have treated you, Severus. Lucius has been surprisingly quiet about it. I do rather enjoy when he brags about your accomplishments.” It was neither a request Lucius could easily fulfill, nor one he could safely ignore, and Severus almost felt sorry for him. Despite what Severus wanted to believe, the end result had been his choosing –though he sincerely doubted Lucius would have allowed any better ending.   
When Lucius made no move to talk, Severus looked briefly at the dancing flames of the fireplace and then to his master. “I’ve been well enough, my lord. Still under Dumbledore’s lock and key, I’m afraid. Though fortunate, perhaps. I waited to answer your first calling until he threatened me with Azkaban for refusing to spy on you again.” He shrugged and took a sip. “I have been snubbed on multiple occasions for my potions work, but have increased the reputation of the Hogwarts program. As best I can tell, I am more respected internationally.”  
“Unfortunate,” the Dark Lord said quietly. “I had heard that Dumbledore held your parole and the Ministry your finances. Of course, with your access to the Malfoy funds, it should not have been a problem.” Severus gave a single nod and noticed Lucius’ blush out of the corner of his eye. “Now tell me Shadow, has Narcissa allowed you to fulfill your duties as godfather to young Draco or is she still hostile?”   
Severus refilled his glass and then cleared his throat. “Cissy and I have gotten along better these past few years, I suppose. I am unfortunately busy and do not see anyone much other than at Hogwarts and for formal events.”   
The Dark Lord tutted and then smirked. “Really, my Shadow? I struggle to believe that you are not here often.”  
“I have not resided at the Manor for many years now, my Lord. Dumbledore grew suspicious and it interfered with my duties to the school,” Severus quickly replied. Living in the Manor after the Dark Lord’s fall had interfered with his duties, but Dumbledore had never noticed his absences. “I am afraid that my time in Azkaban left some permanent… barriers to desire. It is not a challenge I often inflict upon Lucius.”  
A lie, of course. His lack of desire could generally be blamed on something else entirely. During the months he’d spent in the prison’s special section, Moody had mostly damaged his hands. The joke was on him of course, given the number of potions the Order and Hogwarts needed. However, he suspected it would give Lucius an easy excuse.   
The air in the room turned suddenly hot as the Dark Lord stared at Lucius. “I expect more of you Goose,” he hissed. “All the years he’s tolerated Narcissa and your other escapades has certainly earned him better treatment. I expect this to be fixed quickly, pet.” His eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Severus and it made him look even more serpent-like. “I shall not ask you to perform until Lucius chooses to value you, Shadow.”  
Severus fought to keep his features blank. There were many things he would happily do for the Order, but allowing Lucius to court him was not one. He turned his head to study Lucius’ features and gulped. “There is no need, My Lord. I am amenable and, should you desire a performance tonight, I believe I am capable.” He suspected, however, that Lucius might not find it so easy. The other man had never had to pretend, after all.   
Lucius kept his gaze forward and stiffened his arm around Severus’ shoulders in the only display of discomfort he could safely give. “If it pleases you, My Lord.”   
The Dark Lord grinned. “Indeed it does.”  
VOLDEMORT:  
He could see how tense his favorite boys were as they offered him a show. It was clear to him now that they’d gone their separate ways, but their desire to please him despite it filled him with… he supposed it was pride. How rare it was to find men so loyal! He quickly noticed that Severus was putting effort into making things easier for Lucius and was uncertain what to think. For as long as he’d known Severus, Lucius had been his protector and minder. Evidently, that had changed.   
Severus told a better story than he’d probably ever heard from Lucius, but he knew it to be false. Azkaban had not hurt his Shadow’s ability to desire or perform. If anything had, it was Lucius. Had he been reincarnated fully human, he would simply take Severus himself. Certainly he would find a way, at some point, to regain humanity, but until then, his beloved Shadow would have to bear the occasional uncomfortable evening. He would of course pay him back more than fairly. “Indeed it does,” he said with a grin. He placed his own glass of whiskey down and stood. The scowl Lucius gave almost drew a crucio, but Severus complied happily enough.   
He let Severus lead, surprised that he did so. Never before had the man taken anything but a submissive role. Perhaps the confidence had driven them apart? Yes, surely that was it. Severus must have wanted more control. Once they reached what had always been Severus’ room (apparently now just another guest room), things returned to how they should be.   
Lucius initiated things gently while they helped each other undress. It was good to see that their bodies remembered each other even if their souls had grown apart. Voldemort ran a gentle finger down Severus’ bare back and grunted softly. The man was trying evermore to curl into Lucius’ body while simultaneously leaning into his touch. Oh how he wished for his human body!   
He pulled back to let them play and marveled. Severus was still as perfect as the first time he’d watched the two of them at 15 and 20, respectively, and Lucius had not changed either. Things between them had always been so incredibly, beautifully passionate. Yet he’d never seen Lucius take interest in another man. Neither had Severus, come to think of it, other than the interactions in the past where Voldemort had joined them. On those occasions, Severus had allowed it with just as much enthusiasm as he gave with Lucius. He wondered briefly if Severus had attempted to find a wife during his absence. It would be a shame for such an old Wizarding line to die out, even if it was a foreign line…even if Severus had not shown much inclination toward women. Though, he supposed, whatever he had felt toward that Mudblood had been sincere enough, romantic love or not.   
As they laid out on the bed, their full glories exposed and dripping with the beginnings of heat, Voldemort groaned. He laid at the head of the bed next to Severus’ head and stroked the man’s hair. Much to his surprise, the man released Lucius’ lips to turn toward him. Severus’ eyes were closed as he rested his head next to Voldemort’s.   
“Look at me, Shadow,” Voldemort ordered.  
His Shadow nudged Lucius’ cheek and moved with him to set a pace before sighing in pleasure and doing as ordered. When Severus’ eyes opened, all Voldemort received was a dead stare. The man was going to such lengths to put on a good show and it was clearly an act. He silently cast “Legilimens.” It took just a moment for him to realize Severus had mentally withdrawn to his potions lab and ended the spell immediately. “Lucius!” he snipped.   
Lucius immediately stopped, still buried in his Shadow, and was clearly terrified. “Have I displeased you, My Lord?” the man asked so quietly it was almost inaudible.   
Voldemort bared his teeth and fought to control his temper. “Leave, Lucius.” He kept his gaze firmly on his Shadow as Lucius removed himself from their presence. There was no change in the man’s expression –he simply stretched out his limbs and rolled over.   
SEVERUS SNAPE:  
He was aware of the Dark Lord prodding his mind and switched to his mental potions lab so quick there was no way the man would have known he wasn’t in it all along. He had of course been reviewing lesson plans and retaking inventory for his class stores, but the Dark Lord didn’t need to know he could do that mentally. His body moved in rhythm with Lucius’ as it ought to and he was surprised he hadn’t better fooled his master. Part of him, a very small part of him, felt empty when Lucius left him –he had after all missed the man’s touch on occasion –but mostly he felt relieved.  
After a moment, he remembered that his master had been more interested in participating than he had been the last year or so of his original existence and had likewise probably sent Lucius out so that he could have fun without competition. Severus took a quick moment to stretch out his limbs before rolling over. The Dark Lord had always preferred him on his stomach, and it was a small price to pay for not having to bring Lucius to completion.   
When his master made no move to mount him, he winced and rolled back over. “Am I displeasing to you, My Lord?” he whispered. “I am not as young as I once was and was hardly an attractive man then.”   
“Tell me, my Shadow,” the Dark Lord said as he propped his head on his hand, “have I always been so oblivious to your feelings toward Lucius?”  
Severus focused on not shivering. It would not do to lie to his master over this particular topic and incur his wrath, yet the truth was too dangerous for words. “I have benefited greatly from knowing Lucius, My Lord. There were instances in the past where I saw what was not there, as I imagine is common when one has known another for so long. Or perhaps I simply needed to see what was not there to reconcile the uncontrollably enthusiastic responses of my body. I know it is a weakness, My Lord, and have thus distanced myself from our dear Lucius’ bed and home.” As the following silence stretched out, Severus worried he had not been believed, despite the amount of truth in his words.   
His master frowned. Severus was prepared for the crucio that was certainly coming and refused to show any anticipation. “I was surprised,” the Dark Lord said slowly, “that I was able to convince our Goose to marry Cissa. He has not ever taken a woman with the passion he takes you with, my Shadow. I must insist you let him reconcile the matter so that we might all enjoy your passion again.” He ran his boney fingers down Severus’ stomach and stood.   
Severus remained silent as the Dark Lord left and was sure not to move until the door shut. In the past, much of his information had come from Lucius’ loose mouth…and his own loose morals. He was certain both were as loose as ever, but it was perhaps too much to ask. If only Dumbledore did not hold his parole –then he could have married and kept an emotional distance between him and Lucius. He had been so dependent on the love Lucius was willing to give he had almost sullied the Malfoy name. “Never again,” he mouthed the words as he did every time he missed his former lover. He would pretend to let Lucius court him again, if it came to it, and find a way to give a more convincing performance the next time.


	2. Chapter 2

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE:   
A bell chimed to let him know that Snape had left the school again, but he didn’t even look up from his papers. It had been like this continuously up until about 5 years ago –he suspected then that the potions master was involved with someone but there had been no rumors. It was unlikely that Snape had found someone else to occupy his time with. The man knew Albus was not interested in approving any marriage and would grow tired of disgracing this new woman soon enough.   
He continued reading the file before him. At Moody’s insistence, he had agreed to review the old Ministry files on known Death Eaters and found he did not like what he saw. There was no good reason for him having not read these before, other than Moody had not offered his files from the special section until recently. Snape’s file told him nothing –the man had let Moody destroy his hands and never said a word, much less reacted, even when the torture had moved to other parts of his person. Albus supposed he was lucky Snape could brew at all.   
It was the file before him, that of Evan Rosier, that bothered him. Rosier and Snape had been friends, that much he remembered, and it seemed that Rosier had attempted to take Lucius Malfoy with him. The knowledge that Snape had been Lucius’ lover and not Narcissa’s came as quite a nasty surprise. He should have pushed the potions master to marry, in retrospect. Though he supposed now the former relations would ease Snape’s reintroduction to the Death Eater ranks. Malfoy would never suspect anything and would likely continue vouching for Snape.   
Rosier, if anything, had given them far too much information. If only he had held better under torture and shown the worth he might have to the Order. But alas, no one would ever survive such a direct insinuation of sodomy against the Malfoy house. A gentle knock came at his door and he called for the Mediwitch to enter. “Good evening, Poppy,” he called.   
“Good evening, Albus,” she replied with a curious look. “What is it?”  
He tapped a finger as he debated how to broach the subject. He’d heard the rumors, they’d all heard the rumors, and, now that he knew the one regarding Malfoy to be true, could not help but wonder after the validity of the others. “I remember that there were always rumors regarding a certain underage male Slytherin and another, older, male Slytherin.”  
The witch rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “I had thought you were past annoying poor Severus with rumors and people that caused him such discomfort. Shall we discuss the merits of the Marauders next, perhaps?”   
Albus cleared his throat. “I would like to apologize, Madame, for giving the impression that this would be an evening of immature candor.” He watched as she nodded and hid his smile. There were times in the past where his suspicion of the dour potions master had seemed absurd, but Moody had always pushed him to be reluctant in giving the man any length of leash. Now that he had confirmation that Snape had lied about his familiarity with Malfoy, it might be time to pull the leash even tighter. “I am afraid that, in these records, there is evidence of the accusation having some accuracy. Evan Rosier accused Lucius Malfoy of forcing a sodomitic relationship on Professor Snape. According to the report, it started sometime in Snape’s 4th year.”   
Pomfrey gasped and grasped the armrests of the chair she occupied. “I had no idea, Albus, and if I had….”  
“I am not accusing you of neglect,” Albus said after a moment. He popped a lemon drop into his mouth and took a moment to wonder how he might get Snape to ingest veritaserum, seeing as the man didn’t much care for sweets. He reluctantly returned to the subject matter at hand. “I know you would hesitate in telling me if any of the rumors regarding him are true, but I am curious now. There was a rumor during his school years, started by one of the Death Eater spawn, that Malfoy only managed it because Snape came to him half trained. “  
“No!” Pomfrey exclaimed and nearly shot out of her chair. “Surely I would have noticed.”  
It was just the reaction Albus had hoped for. Despite all the trouble Snape had caused, particularly with his beloved Marauders and Harry Potter, he would not forgive himself if that particular rumor was true. He could only imagine the public response if he had thoughtlessly sent a student who requested permission to stay every year back to an environment where he’d been sexually abused again and again. “I had hoped to hear as much,” he said with the best smile he could muster. If Snape had gone to Malfoy of his own accord and used the man for information, it would hardly be traumatic to ask the man to return to Malfoy’s bed. In the end, it might just be enough to take Lucius Malfoy down.   
“I know Professor Snape assists with the infirmary and brews everything. If you would not mind strengthening your association with him…he might need an ear. It seems that Voldemort is not up to his old ways, thankfully. Snape has not informed me of any crucio or other torture. I assume he would go to you, if not me.”  
Pomfrey nodded and kept her features stern. “He will not be forthcoming, if he believes I am fishing or under orders, but I shall attempt it. Perhaps some hazard pay, for the inconvenience of dealing with the miserable git,” she said with only the smallest laugh.   
Albus liked the way she worded it as if a joke. None of them had really interacted with Snape or gotten to know the man over the 15 years he’d been teaching. Perhaps that had been unwise, leaving the man isolated. It would be hard to keep control if the man started keeping secrets. “Thank you, Poppy.” She nodded and left quietly.   
He knew he should go to bed and get some sleep, but instead he began a list of all the ways he might slip Snape veritaserum.   
SEVERUS SNAPE:  
It was his 5th year Gryffindor and Slytherin class that always ruined his mood the quickest. The idiots were constantly sabotaging each other, and on more than one occasion the fumes had made him ill. He stalked through the classroom to monitor the cauldrons. Potter’s was almost passable and could be a success if he bothered to make a minor correction or two, but the child never would. When had a Potter ever bothered to do anything he didn’t absolutely have to? Didn’t the whole family just get by easily enough?   
Granger’s was near perfect and it annoyed him. There were days where she reminded him too much of Lily Evans. Lily had also been well intentioned, but much like Granger was at times too controlling. He’d seen her push the boys too hard…they all pushed each other too hard in their own ways. As much as they punished the joy she got from books, Severus suspected she and Weasley were equally taking advantage of Potter’s need for attention. It was pathetically like Lupin. Lupin could have easily made the top 10 in their class with more dedication –he was smart enough –but he’d never wanted to be viewed as smarter than his friends. Severus suspected Potter was the same way. The boy craved positive attention and would sacrifice his ability to be the best for it.   
Unfortunately, Severus knew what that felt like as well. However, the person he’d spent his youth craving attention from had always encouraged his success. Lucius thought of Severus as personal property and would never tolerate owning anything but the best. Yet Severus had given Lucius the advantage when possible and even slowed his ascension through the Dark Lord’s ranks to make Lucius look better.   
Nott’s potion was fine, as usual. It was nothing special, but then again Severus had never viewed anything the boy did as special much less worthwhile. For a pureblood child, the Nott boy was a waste…perhaps not as much as Crabbe or Goyle, but a waste nonetheless.   
He scowled as he peered into Draco’s cauldron. It was good, just not as good as Granger’s. He shouldn’t care anymore. All those years he’d lived at the Manor, he’d probably been the person to interact with Draco the most. Despite only being godfather in title, he’d always felt as if the boy was his. He’d certainly taken enough time to tutor the boy in potions. Draco really ought to be the best, not second in line.   
His detection wards alerted him to something flying, and as he turned he could clearly see the path it had taken through the air, but could not stop it before it landed in Crabbe’s cauldron. With a simple flick of his wand, he banished the potion. “Detention, Potter, and 10 points from Gryffindor,” he hissed as he began another round of checking cauldrons.   
There was an immediate silence and he knew they would whisper as soon as they left. He was well aware that it had been Weasley that threw it, but punishing Weasley would serve no purpose. He’d learned all too well that punishing people like James Potter and Black and now any of the Weasleys did nothing to improve the situation. It was the weak ones, Lupin and the young Potter, that would eventually buckle under continuous reminders of their lacking morals. It was people like Potter that couldn’t stand knowing they were miserable pieces of shit.   
He called the class and watched as they put their vials on the desk. Later, he would enjoy giving grades they did not deserve –there was no excuse for grade inflation. Any Os would be beyond deserved. Most of them only deserved As, anyways. He turned back and noticed that Potter’s Transfiguration book laid on the floor, having obviously fallen from his bag. The boy already struggled with homework. He silently walked out of the classroom and crept up on the Gryffindor trio.   
“Honestly, Ronald,” he heard Granger hiss. “Harry’s having enough trouble this year as it is.”   
“It’s alright,” Potter jumped in quickly. “I don’t mind, Ron.”   
Weasley huffed. The group stopped in a little alcove. “Snape’s just being a git, mate. You feeling better?”  
Better? Was Potter ill? Severus hid right next to them ready to pounce. He hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the boy earlier. “Yeah,” Potter said. “Just a headache, still. Weird dream, last night. I saw that door again.” A door? Severus felt suddenly cold. Potter was having reoccurring dreams of a door? Was that supposed to mean something? “We should go,” he heard Potter say.   
He took two steps so that he came up right behind them as they came out of the alcove. “Potter,” he called. The Golden Trio stopped.   
“Go on,” Potter said as he turned to face Severus.   
“How is your grade in Transfiguration?” Severus asked with a smirk. Potter mumbled something about it being fine. “I imagine it could be better, would be better, if perhaps you bothered with your studies.” He slowly extended the book but held it just out of Potter’s easy reach.   
Potter grimaced. “Yeah, thanks sir,” he said as he held out his hand to receive the book.   
Severus slapped it into the boy’s hand before turning on his heel and storming off. Why couldn’t Dumbledore see that he had better things to do than keep up with the boy? He let the door slam shut behind him as he entered his classroom and took pleasure in the way some of the students jumped.   
\--:--:--:--  
After a few days of quiet, he became unsettled. Potter hadn’t injured himself or earned a detention; the Order hadn’t had any meetings, so he assumed there was no new news; the Dark Lord hadn’t summoned him or requested any new potions; the Hospital Wing was stocked adequately; he’d even had a decent night’s worth of sleep. It wouldn’t last long.   
He stepped into his quarters and heard something crunch beneath his foot. With a quick wave of his wand, the toy was repaired and away in its box. He should have been home hours ago, but one of his 1st years had come to him hysterical and it had taken two hot chocolates and an hour and a half to get her calm. There was a plate set out for him as usual –Dobby nearly always did that when he didn’t make it back on time for dinner. He quickly peered into the first room and saw that everything was as it should be. After a quick shower, where he actually bothered to wash his hair (for the first time that week), he dressed in pajamas and returned to the kitchen to eat his dinner. It was too rich for his tired stomach, so he only ate a few bites.   
Once under the soft covers, he stared at the ceiling and tried to absorb the silence around him. He’d left Lucius years ago, but it still felt odd to fall asleep alone, without the breathing of another as a soft lullaby. But he couldn’t think of Lucius, that would never stop hurting. Instead, he thought of Eliza. Her flowing light-brown hair and bright blue eyes still stood out in his memory. It had been a blind date –which he had done once a year just to humor Harold and Daisy, up until Eliza left.   
The day he’d requested permission from Dumbledore to marry her and been denied, he’d destroyed most of the man’s office. It wasn’t fair or right for the old man to keep him so isolated. He’d cried that day –out of anger, mostly. At the time, he thought he’d given enough, but now knew that he could never give enough to earn the man’s forgiveness.   
His tears had dried and there had been no obvious solution. He’d figured it would be over even as he packed the ring box into his jacket pocket, but tried to keep the distress off his face as he surprised Eliza with takeout at her flat. She had cuddled her slightly plump body into his side and asked what was wrong after just a few bites.   
“Nothing,” he’d replied quietly. “Nothing’s wrong.” He’d paused for just a moment. “I’ve told you that certain things in the magical world are different.” It was their third anniversary and he’d told her about magic the year before. “I was wrongly imprisoned. My allies did little to fight for me. Someone, my employer, holds my parole and….” He’d rested their foreheads together and breathed in the smell of her. “I had hoped to be romantic, Liza,” he whispered as he pulled out the ring box.   
“Severus!” she’d exclaimed with joy.   
His breath had hitched as he looked into her eyes. “I cannot. I was denied permission to marry. We have discussed the possibility of having children. I will love them, legitimate or not.” She’d cried then and told him they would stay together. And they had –their relationship had not ended until he’d refused to take her to the one potions conference he’d been awarded at and she’d decided that being his secret wasn’t good enough.   
Severus thought of the scent of her body and her gentle snores as he drifted off to sleep. He really had loved her and wanted her to publically, officially be his, despite what she claimed. Sleep came slowly and ended quickly with a floo call from Dumbledore right around 4.   
He was in full robes by the time he reached the floo. “Headquarters, 10 minutes,” Dumbledore said without so much as a hello.   
It disconnected before Severus responded. He rolled his eyes and called for Dobby as he walked back to the first bedroom. The small form on the bed was breathing evenly and snoring softly. He turned away when Dobby popped in. “My apologies, Dobby,” he whispered.   
Dobby smiled sadly and twisted his hands in his clothes. “I will watch little master,” the elf said as quietly as was possible for him. “Master Severus come home soon.”   
Severus nodded but made no verbal response as he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so usually I have their conversations bolded, but ao3 doesn't seem to like that idea, so '...' will have to do. if anybody knows how to make it bold, plz tell me :)

ALBUS DUMBLEDORE:  
He tapped his fingers on the table while they waited for Severus to arrive. Why was the dour man always the last to arrive? It wasn’t as if he had anything that could possibly be important. All the man did was brew the occasional potion and teach. Spying barely occupied any of his time.  
“You spoke to him?” Moody grumbled.   
“Yes,” Albus replied without giving it any thought. It never dawned on him that he’d be given such an easy chance. “Alastor,” he said as he turned toward the man, “I imagine Snape might like a coffee when he arrives.”   
Black’s head shot up. “Let Kreacher get it.”  
Albus shook his head no once and knew Moody understood that he wanted veritaserum in the drink. They would make Snape talk if they had to. Clearly, the man was a well of information about Malfoy. As one of the Voldemort’s most trusted, Malfoy’s fall would be a rough blow. Moody returned with a coffee and had just sat when Snape entered. “Thank you for joining us,” Albus muttered.   
Snape was silent as he sat. After a moment, he sipped his coffee and Albus decided to begin. “We have received troubling rumors regarding Voldemort planning to retrieve his followers from Azkaban. Have you heard anything Severus?”   
The man shrugged and Albus suspected the veritaserum had started to take effect. “It is not the sort of activity I’m likely to be involved in,” Snape said.  
“What sort of activity are you likely to be involved in?” Albus asked. It was something he’d long wondered about. They’d never understood Snape’s role as a Death Eater. What if Snape was just a paramour? They’d have to find another spy.   
Snape blinked a few times. “You misunderstand me. Due to my proximity to you, it has been decided that I will not participate in any planning meetings. I am not to know until directly beforehand, if at all.”  
Albus had worried about Voldemort keeping Snape in the dark. If he was, how did Snape get any information at all? “Would you mind describing your duties, then?”  
The look Snape gave was cold and calculating, as if he knew there was something wrong. “I brew, Headmaster.”  
SEVERUS SNAPE:  
He’d never expected that the Headmaster might drug him, but he always answered carefully anyways. “I brew, Headmaster,” he said with an even voice. It was not a lie. His official duties as a Death Eater consisted entirely of brewing. What was the man attempting to get at? “At the moment, it is only healing potions.” Again, not a lie. He was working on a potion to restore the Dark Lord to a human body, yes, but that would technically cause healing.   
Dumbledore considered him and then nodded. “I understand. I have to wonder if Lucius Malfoy might play a role in these things. He has gained much political power and perhaps some expertise.”  
The man knew something, but what? He couldn’t know about Severus’ relations with Lucius or the Dark Lord, surely. “I cannot say that Lucius and I have been on friendly terms the past 5 years. Given his rather large mouth, the Dark Lord might have chosen not to include him until certain to whom Lucius is speaking.”   
“And there are circumstances where Malfoy talks openly?” Moody asked as he leaned forward across the table. His magical eye widened a bit as he looked at Severus.   
So they did know something about his previous relations with Lucius. He considered the wording of Moody’s question and how to best answer it. There was nothing in the question that directly implicated him. He finished off his coffee so as not to seem suspicious and patted his lips dry. “One always hears rumors,” he said with a smirk. “Those regarding Lucius’ inability to hold secrets while, shall we say, certain areas of his body are physically engaged would seem to have some validity. Narcissa occasionally passes along whatever she learns about Ministry affairs. Weasley ought to be undergoing a surprise investigation any day now.” That bit of information was not a lie either, though he was hard-pressed to let go of it. What other choice did he have? He certainly couldn’t sit there and tell them that most of his information during the first war had come from Lucius’ bed.   
Moody’s magical eye nearly popped out of his head. “And you didn’t think to let us know about Arthur? What are you playing at, Snape? If they start going after our employees at the Ministry….”  
Severus had to restrain his eye roll. “Narcissa and I have never gotten on well. It would be unwise to jeopardize our truce.” It would be jeopardized anyways. She probably wouldn’t say anything outright against the Dark Lord’s orders, but the very idea of losing her husband to a man again would result in her screeching and silence between them.   
The smirk on Dumbledore’s face was worrisome. “Is there a reason you and Lady Malfoy don’t get along, Severus? I haven’t heard of this before now.”   
There was an immediate urge to tell the truth, per the veritaserum, but he swallowed it. He could twist it. “As I am sure Black remembers,” he said as he stared at the mutt. Black growled in response. “Narcissa has always been exceptionally petty and self-centered. Over the course of our friendship, I never discouraged his many affairs. In fact, I encouraged a few of them.”  
The smirk fell from Dumbledore’s features. “I see,” he muttered. Clearly he had not heard the answer he’d wanted. “If it is possible for you to regain Lucius Malfoy’s friendship, you must. Every connection you make is valuable.”   
“Of course,” Severus said. He nodded just once and knew he’d been dismissed. His felt his mark twinge as he walked to the floo. Once in his quarters, he immediately flooed over to Malfoy Manor without his Death Eater robes. Such a soft twinge could only come from Lucius.  
LUCIUS MALFOY:   
He paced in the sitting room. It was early, but he’d suddenly woken to find a note stating that Narcissa was on holiday and hoped Severus might be up as well. He couldn’t say he liked the Dark Lord’s order to rekindle things. In fact, it rather infuriated him. He’d always provided for Severus until the man left and it hadn’t been his choice to stop. Severus could have just stayed and not asked for more than he was due. The floo spurned to life and Lucius turned toward it. He felt underdressed in his trousers and blouse, no jacket or shoes, but he needed Severus calm.   
Severus stepped in wearing full robes and Lucius suddenly felt foolish. After silently surmising that there was nobody else there, Severus removed his robes and tossed them over the back of the chair. He walked forward and then past Lucius.   
“Severus?” Lucius asked as he turned to follow.   
“Don’t,” Severus responded as he continued walking.   
Lucius ran just a bit to catch him before he reached his destination. He placed his hand gently on Severus’ shoulder to prevent him from entering the guest room. “I did not call you here for that, old friend.” He hoped Severus would turn to face him, but the man stayed where he was.   
“Then what, Lucius?” Severus asked, clearly tired. “I do have better things to do.”   
The obvious distance between them did not particularly hurt. As much as he cared about Severus, he had never and would never allow it to interfere in his marriage. Narcissa had always complained about the nights he spent with Severus and the years Severus had lived in the Manor, but she had begged him to make up with Severus within just a month of the man leaving. She had quickly discovered that no Severus meant he would request she manage his needs. Evidently, they were not needs she had an interest in. No matter, he had found others to satisfy him. “Our master has demanded we become familiar again, Shadow.”  
“I am aware, Goose,” Severus said to irritate him. “However, I am busy and would prefer to just get it over with.”   
Lucius scowled and tightened his grip on Severus’ shoulder. It was like the man’s ability to stop for a while and enjoy was gone. Going to bed was certainly not in his best interest, but he thought perhaps Severus might need some physical attention to relax like he used to. He walked past Severus and took his hand to drag him along. It had been rather embarrassing when Severus had taken the lead in their master’s presence. He flicked his wand and had the tub filled before they entered the loo.   
He turned to face Severus, hoping to see the man relaxed. There were no discernable emotions on the man’s face, but he was unbuttoning his blouse. Severus refused to look at him as they undressed, yet was not as shy with his body as he had been all those years ago. He was more muscular and better toned, and obviously better fed. After a moment of silence, Severus finally looked up and gave the smallest smile. He sat himself in the tub and left room for Lucius to sit behind him. Lucius quickly took advantage of the space and squeezed his thighs against the other man’s hips after sitting. “I assume you want to talk,” Severus said as he stiffly rested against Lucius’ chest.   
“Yes,” Lucius said as he stretched his hands out with Severus’ along the rim of the tub. “We haven’t really spoken in years now. How have things been for you? Our Lord was certain to remind me that I ought to take interest in your finances.”   
Severus shrugged and tapped one of his fingers as if annoyed. “I have managed well enough. We both know I can stretch a galleon to its last.”  
Lucius controlled his features even though the other man couldn’t see him. He hoped Severus would have come to him if he’d needed anything, but wasn’t certain. “You should not have to,” he said as he ran a finger over one of Severus’ wrists. He heard the man’s breath hitch and traced his finger over skin all the way up to the elbow. After just the smallest noticeable hesitation, Severus rested against him and cuddled. “Good,” Lucius whispered. He moved his arm down and around the other man’s waist.   
“Don’t patronize me,” Severus hissed. “I wish to please our master, nothing more. If he wishes for me to enjoy this, then I shall.”  
“Very well,” Lucius responded. He rested his head back and just sat with the other man in his arms until the water went cold.  
SEVERUS SNAPE:   
He found time in his schedule to meet with Lucius once a week up until Halloween. After a few bath sessions, he had convinced his body, if not his mind, to relax for Lucius again. It was difficult to mentally detach from the idea of being with him again. He’d never enjoyed casual sex and this would be no different. His master would call eventually and he would perform as desired.   
A loud commotion pulled him from his thoughts and he realized he was once again staring at Potter. He hated that the miserable sod always managed to pull his attention, hated even more that he didn’t know why. Had he loved Lily Evans? Sure, but at the time it had been overshadowed by his desire to be with Lucius. At 14, 15, 16, even 17, the love Lucius willingly, happily offered was overwhelming. Lily had never stood a chance. If for no other reason, though there were many, he would continue hating the boy just to frustrate Dumbledore. He had few other ways to repay the man for all the years of solitude.   
Potter met his gaze and scowled and it gave him the perfect opportunity to cast a small legilimens. He only caught surface thoughts –anger, hate…loneliness? Why would Potter possibly be lonely? He was surrounded by his imbecilic friends and they were certainly fulfilling the boy’s desire to be given attention. Potter looked away.   
Severus made it through dinner without looking at the boy again. Instead he focused on the last barrier to his potion for the Dark Lord. It was finished except for one element –blood. Hypothetically, any blood would suffice. However, Potter’s would be the strongest. It would revive the Dark Lord saner than any other, but inevitably strengthen the bond between them. It probably would not cost them the war, but would certainly forfeit Potter’s life. The boy didn’t deserve to have his life destroyed just to make Severus’ easier. He just barely withheld from taking points as he stormed out of the Great Hall after the feast.   
He needed something to curb his frustration, something beyond tormenting students. Technically, he was required to hold office hours until curfew and he would normally use the time to grade and organize his classroom, but Dumbledore could fuck himself.   
The door to his quarters swung open and he vanished his robes before crossing the threshold. His outfit of khakis and a plain long-sleeved shirt would cause his coworkers and students to faint if they ever saw it. The only person who ever got to see him like this, other than Dobby, ran into his arms.   
Severus pulled the little boy into his arms for a moment and then sat him back down where they could see each other. Hello Tristan. He signed slowly –signing still hurt his hands even though Moody had destroyed them so many years before.   
Tristan grinned as he signed back. 'Hello Papa.' His hair was pitch-black like Severus’ and he had unfortunately inherited the family nose. 'Dobby says supper soon.'   
'Supper?' Severus frowned. Dobby should have fed Tristan already. At 4, the boy couldn’t be expected to wait to eat.   
Tristan shrugged and pulled at the hem of his shirt. 'Late lunch…. Dobby!' He signed the magical summons and grew quickly frustrated when it did not immediately work. The little boy focused his magic, as Severus had taught him, and tried again.   
TRISTAN SNAPE:   
From where he was seated, he could see the door open. Papa was earlier than he should have been and just in time for dinner! He ran to his Papa and hugged him for a minute before they stood facing each other. Papa signed hello to him, but it was slow –Papa always signed slow when he was tired because it hurt his hands. 'Hello Papa. Dobby says supper soon.' He signed in response.   
Papa frowned as he signed. 'Supper?'   
Tristan shrugged. He liked it when Dobby fed him late because sometimes that meant eating with Papa. 'Late lunch…. Dobby!' He was getting better at calling the little elf himself without having to get Salazar’s portrait, but it took a few tries. The motion in his hands was difficult and Papa said casting spells would only get harder. He huffed and tried again.   
Dobby arrived with a rush of magic and said something to Papa before vanishing. Papa rolled his eyes and blinked a few times. 'Supper. Wash your hands.'  
Tristan nodded and ran off to get cleaned up. If Papa wasn’t too tired after supper, he would show off his improving reading skills and maybe they could even play a game. He ran back to the table and took his seat across from Papa. 'How were they?'   
'The students?' Papa asked. Tristan nodded and thanked Dobby when he brought in their food. It was a chicken and pineapple curry with rice (one of Papa’s favorites), just like he’d asked Dobby for. Papa ate with his right hand so he could sign with his more mobile, left one. 'Annoying. I like you better. Smarter at… how old are you again?'   
A grin overtook Tristan’s features. He liked it when Papa teased. 'I’m 4, Papa. I like you too.' Papa just shook his head and chuckled. They ate for awhile and Tristan watched Papa carefully. His hand with the fork was rigid, like it wanted to shake. Maybe he was brewing too much again. Tristan liked to brew too and sometimes Papa let him make a potion to change his hair color on his little potions set –he could almost do it by himself, something Papa said most 1st years couldn’t do. Papa ate his plate quickly and then it refilled itself. Tristan finished his plate just as Papa finished his second and jumped up to go get his book.   
He looked at the titles in his bookshelf and pulled out the first book of the funny series Papa had bought when on his trip to America, “Dinosaurs Before Dark.” Tristan loved the idea of the magic tree house and the magic lady and Jack and Annie and it had words he knew. There weren’t really signs for words in books like Beetle the Bard. He was pretty sure Papa had made up most of the magical signs he used. Magical people didn’t much seem to like kids like him, but Papa loved him always. He carried the book out to Papa proudly and led him to the sofa.  
Papa summoned a whiskey as they walked and put on a smile. He signed the words with Tristan and they both went slow. They got to the pteranodon named Henry and Papa told him to make a name sign for it. Tristan liked making up name signs for characters. He finger-spelled the name and decided for Henry he would sign the letter H and flap his other fingers like a wing. Papa repeated it until he did it right and then they continued on. When Jack found the medallion labeled “M,” Tristan bounced and asked Papa what he thought it was.   
'I don’t know. Papa smiled. Maybe we’ll meet an ‘M’ later. Should we stop for now?' Tristan bit into his lip and nodded. He wanted to keep reading, but he knew Papa was tired. 'One more chapter. You’re reading very good.' Papa turned the page and signed the first word.   
Tristan was good and did not ask for another chapter –Papa had a hard enough time signing the last few words as it was. 'Bubble bath, please?' He bounced a little as he asked. Papa nodded, picked him up, and held him close while he ran the bath and added bubbles. After putting Tristan in the tub, Papa went to the closet and brought back the duckies. As they swam around the tub, they squirted water. Papa said they sang nonsense tunes too, but Tristan was just happy with the way they played with him. After playing with the ducks for awhile, Papa washed his hair and then wrapped him in his favorite towel. It had arm holes and tied shut like a robe and had a hood. He had a snake one, an elephant one, and a lion one –the lion was his favorite and the one he had on.   
Papa ruffled the hood to dry his hair and he did a claw hand while signing a roar with the other. 'Good job.' Papa picked him up again and rocked him from side to side on the way to bed.   
When Papa put him down, Tristan ran to the wardrobe and took out his favorite pajamas. He didn’t understand why they annoyed Papa. Dobby talked about Harry Potter all the time and told stories and Papa had even snuck him to a Quidditch game to watch him once. His pajamas were red pants and a red and gold Harry Potter jersey. He really liked Dobby’s story about Harry Potter killing the big snake and being brave. Papa said it wasn’t bravery at all, though, and Dobby was just being silly. Still, he let Tristan have the pajamas and didn’t ban Dobby from telling stories.   
'Love you Papa.' Tristan signed before letting Papa tuck him in.   
Papa smiled and kissed his head. 'Love you too Tristan.'


	4. Chapter 4

SEVERUS SNAPE: 

He left the door open a crack and shook out his hands as he walked to his lab. The wards would let both him and Dobby know if Tristan woke up. He wanted to sleep, but it would be best to have the Dark Lord’s potion finished. Though his hands were tired, he used the sign he’d devised to call Dobby as Tristan had earlier. He always had a harder time casting with signs, but if his son was ever going to perform magic that way, Severus would have to learn it first. There wasn’t a magical community for the deaf, much less for the mute, and he couldn’t risk sending Tristan away to learn how to speak. Despite the claim of various schools, he couldn’t see how his deaf son might learn to speak without ever hearing the sounds.   
Every magical family he could think of would have sent away a deaf child, unfortunately. There just wasn’t any way to teach them magic and many families couldn’t see the point in keeping a child that couldn’t learn via traditional means. Children with disabilities, not that he ever thought of Tristan as disabled, just in need of different teaching methods, were treated almost worse than squibs. 

Dobby popped in. “Yes, Master Severus?”

“I need a blood sample from the Hospital Wing. It does not matter who from,” Severus grumbled.

The elf was only gone for a moment and then returned with a vial of blood. He handed it over and then wringed his hands. “Is Little Master sleeping?”

Severus nodded. “Yes. In his Potter pajamas, no less. Is he signing well? It is important for him to find a way to channel his magic.”

“Oh yes!” Dobby’s giant ears flopped as he spoke. “Little Master is getting very good as summoning Dobby.” He wrapped his hands in his shirt in a pause before continuing. “If Dobby may, Little Master would very much like a little’s broom.”

Severus withheld his snort as he mixed the blood into the potion. “Just like the incredible Harry Potter, right?”

Dobby gasped and hung his head. “Dobby is sorry, Master Severus! Dobby is knowing Master Severus does not like Harry Potter. Little Master enjoys the stories and knows so few wizards.”

“I am not angry,” Severus cut him off. “Children enjoy having heroes. It is natural. And you’ve told him about the only one you know, that is nothing for me to be angry at. Potter simply annoys me.” The potion turned the color he expected and was finally finished. He filled the vials by hand while Dobby puttered about cleaning. “I will retire now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Master Severus!” Dobby said before leaving with a pop.

Severus drew himself a bath and thought about washing his hair since he had not in a few days, but ultimately decided against it. Doing so would take too long and he needed to sleep at some point. For just a moment, he rested his head against the edge and blinked. He jolted awake a while later, freezing cold, and realized he was still in the tub. The cold had only aggravated the pain in his hands and they shook as he spelled himself dry. 

Perhaps his next experiment would be to fix the damage in his hands or at least halt it. He wasn’t sure how many more years he would last before he could no longer easily communicate with Tristan. After that, there would be no one. No one would take the time to create signs to make magic accessible. Everything he developed would need to be written down to help any future children, or adults, with hearing loss and deafness that couldn’t be corrected with magic. 

He crawled into bed and pulled the covers up over his head. He’d have to remember to finish that book with Tristan in the next few days so that the boy didn’t forget any of it. As he drifted to sleep, he dreamt of Tristan flying around the Quidditch pitch in a Gryffindor jersey.

\--:--:--:--

Severus woke to an intense burning in his arm, summoned his robes and the Dark Lord’s potion, and apparated straight out of his quarters. He walked quickly across the Malfoy grounds and entered the Dark Lord’s throne room with Avery. Severus found some space behind Lucius and knelt. It had always been his place, on his knees and at Lucius’ side. Were he more egotistical, or a better follower, he would be offended that the Dark Lord had never inducted him into the Inner Circle. As it was, not being in the Inner Circle was safer –it gave Lucius and the Dark Lord easy reason to keep him away from the others. 

The Dark Lord entered and scowled as he looked at his followers. Clearly, something had gone wrong and one of them had displeased their lord, but Severus had no idea whom. “Severus,” he hissed. 

“My lord?” Severus asked as he bowed his head lower. 

“Stand and come forth Shadow.” Severus focused his mental shields as he stood and walked forward. Staying calm was vital. His robes vanished and the Dark Lord ran his fingers down his cheek. “Oh, my Shadow,” he whispered. “Do not fear, you have not displeased me. The Ministry’s files on us have been provided to Dumbledore. From my understanding, he has spent rather a lot of time viewing yours and our departed brother, Evan Rosier’s.”

Severus nodded once –it would explain the veritaserum and Dumbledore’s odd behavior, though he couldn’t be certain of what Evan had said. “You wish for me to prove my loyalty, My Lord?” There were approving noises from behind him, but nothing from Lucius. Perhaps his old friend had already been punished for this. “Let my keeper test me as he wishes, if you please.”

A small smile that only Severus could see crossed the Dark Lord’s lips and he seemed happy not to have to punish his favorite. “Kneel Shadow and come forth Lucius. Your pet has requested you.”

He felt empty as he fell to his knees and brought forth an old mantra. My pain is his pleasure and his pleasure protects me. The first curse to hit deprived him of his senses. It was dark and silent and he wondered how long he would last this time…what explanation he might give to end the suffering. His skin went ice cold and he suspected he was naked. There was pressure on his back, a hand or foot, perhaps, and he let it push him onto his stomach. 

There was burning pain down the length of his back that began to sting after a moment. It came again and again and he tried to reason what was causing it. A whip, perhaps? He wondered if he were screaming still or if he’d began babbling yet. There was a plethora of information he could give away without endangering the Order. A crucio hit him, but he couldn’t quite feel the floor under him as he convulsed. It stopped and then he felt the pain of his ribs fracturing one by one. By that point he knew he was screaming, begging probably, and giving excuses, but he didn’t care much. 

It took effort to go deeper than the shields he so heavily depended on and he suspected the strain of doing so would leave him vulnerable for days. The landscape he found himself in was a vast beach. He stood at the ocean’s edge and counted the waves as they splashed against his feet.   
If Dumbledore knew of his prior relations with Lucius, then his only source of refuge might be the Dark Lord. He could sabotage from the inside to give Potter a chance at surviving, but he couldn’t trust anyone but himself with Tristan’s safety. 

Heavy storm clouds filled the horizon and winds swept up around him. It would be so easy to let go and die, leave Potter to do it himself. No, he would have to be strong enough for Tristan and Potter, and all the other little bastards. It seemed as though he were in the middle of a hurricane, soaked to the core and frozen still, his robes flying about. He hadn’t been on this beach since his time with Moody in Azkaban. He’d been catatonic for so long afterward, they’d almost pronounced him dead. 

“Severus,” a voice called from behind him. 

He knew without turning that it was the Dark Lord, though by the sounds of it a much younger one. “Is it over yet?”

The Dark Lord’s hand was on his shoulder. “It was over yesterday, Shadow. Such cruelty toward you from Lucius is uncharacteristic and he will not tell me what it was that pushed you too far.” He ran his fingers through Severus’ hair and hushed him. “No harm will come to your child, My Beloved, no harm. The world will be at his finger tips.”

A stray tear fell down Severus’ cheek and mixed in with the water on his face. So he’d sold out his son instead of the Order, instead of Potter. Just so, he supposed, it was his sin to pay for. “You cannot promise me that,” he whispered. 

The Dark Lord growled and moved so he was stood before Severus. “Unlike others, I do keep my promises, Shadow. What do you so suppose I cannot protect you from?” His short black hair stood up on edge and there was a fire in his eyes that Severus had found himself missing.   
“Draco knew his father well enough to order an auctifer potion instead of the traditional one,” Severus muttered. He hoped the Dark Lord would understand without having it spelt out. 

“Dearest Shadow,” the Dark Lord said with a sad grin, “you have honored me above all others and continued your family line despite Dumbledore’s meddling. You should be proud –I certainly am. There will be no repercussions, on my word. Now come, Shadow. Return with me.”

Severus took the man’s hand and followed him up the beach and out of his mind.

\--:--:--:--

He blinked a few times and then leaned over the edge of the cot he was on to vomit. Everything hurt, but he couldn’t remember what had caused the pain. It was impossible to know what he’d told them, but he had the feeling he hadn’t endangered the Order. How long had he been out for? A few hours probably. The room was small and sterile, obviously for healing purposes. Had he been that badly injured? He stretched out, moving muscle by muscle. The muscles in his back hurt and his blood still felt hot, but the only real problem was his hands. The extent to which he could move his fingers was pathetic and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold anything. 

Dobby would just have to help him with Tristan for the next few days. Or the boy could practice his reading and Severus would use a dict-a-quill. The act of sitting was tiresome and he had no desire to move after, but there was no point in staying where he might be hurt again. He suspected he’d been whipped as he dressed –the fabric rubbed against his back in a painful way. 

He wobbled on his feet as he navigated the hallways. Upon returning home, he’d need a blood replenishing potion and something for the pain, if he had anything left. “Severus!” a voice called from the dining room as he passed it. 

Severus stopped and set his balance before turning. “My Lord?” he asked as he stepped forward. The table was empty except for the Dark Lord and Severus couldn’t hear anyone else nearby. There was no response. “My Lord? I do not remember what happened. If I displeased you….” He thought about the potion in his pocket. Delivering now might be for the best. He bowed his head and gently placed it on the table. Without looking up, he could sense that his master was carefully considering the gift. He heard the stopper pop out and the Dark Lord’s swallow and held his breath. If it did not work, he might not leave alive. 

A soft finger stroked Severus’ chin before tilting his head up. The Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, was stood in all his glory, smiling sadly. His skin was pale and his black, shiny hair rested neatly against his skull in a way that was unmistakably human. “My dearest Shadow,” he cooed, “I will not let them question your loyalty again. But you should not be up. I pulled you out of your mind after the first day, but it has been two since and you have not woken for any purpose other than to scream. Forgive me.”

Severus nodded and did not allow the distress to bubble up. He was lucky to be going home alive after 3 days. He was lucky his master had managed to bring him off the edge. “I see,” he replied slowly. “If that is the case, then I must return.” He gulped when the other man moved, but had the manners not to gasp or recoil upon being embraced. This was the man he’d chosen to follow –the one who hugged him and gave him comfort; the one who took interest in his life. 

“I attempted to access your quarters to check on the child, but your floo is blocked,” the Dark Lord whispered.

Tristan! Severus’ eyes grew wide momentarily. He’d given up his son instead of the beloved Harry Potter. “Unnecessary, My Lord, but you have my thanks regardless. The elf Potter freed, Dobby, minds my son during my absences and I am afraid my son would quickly grow frustrated with you.”  
“He has his father’s patience, then?”

Severus snorted and moved his gaze for a moment. “Hardly. My son is deaf and would not appreciate your inability to communicate with him. He might hex you for your troubles.” He wasn’t sure why he said it. It was information that could endanger the boy, but seeing his master so well was surprising, enthralling. 

The Dark Lord blinked a few times. “The boy’s an invalid and you’ve managed him on your own?”

“No,” Severus barked, “my son is not disabled. He is highly intelligent for his age. He simply cannot hear or speak. I have learned sign language and adapted some spells over.”

“Hush, Severus,” his master ordered. “I did not mean to accuse the boy of anything. I was simply commenting on the added difficulties of his deafness. Few men find themselves interested in child rearing, fewer yet under such circumstances.” He paused and raised a finger to his cheek when he realized he was blushing. Clearly, being inhuman had affected him. “If you will teach me, I will devote what time I can to learning this signing that you speak of and understanding your methodology with spells for the boy. Should anything more happen to your hands, or should Dumbledore harm your person,” he paused. 

Severus gave a single nod. He knew the Dark Lord meant if Dumbledore killed him or left him otherwise incapacitated. It was hard to remember in that moment that the man before him was prone to spontaneous murder sprees and torture; it was hard to remember for just a moment why he’d left.   
“I will care for the boy as my own. Our little Haze shall not need or want. The child of my two favorites shall have everything he desires.”  
Haze? It was cute. Severus could not think of a sign for haze, but he knew the one for fog. He extended his hands, bent at the elbow so that they were close to his body, and wiggled his fingers a bit as he dramatically lifted his hands up and puffed out his cheeks. The Dark Lord looked absolutely mortified. “It’s the sign for ‘haze’ My Lord. I will tell him to respond to it, should the two of you meet.”

The Dark Lord blinked a few times and then repeated the sign. “Was that correct?” 

“It was close, My Lord. Though it seems foolish, you must be animated. Otherwise, signs are easily confused.” He repeated the sign and smiled as he watched his master try it again. What had happened to the Tom Riddle who took time out of his day to learn little things like signing? As he looked at the man, he felt like a teenager, faced for the first time with beauty and power and desire. He brought his hands together, each in a duckish shape, and moved them back and forth. 

“What was that?” the Dark Lord asked with a smile. 

Severus cupped the back of the other man’s head and brought their lips together. He wanted to feel the man’s power surround him and run through him. The power boost might even help his hands. “Don’t make me beg,” he whispered. “I want to be the first.”

A throaty moan came from the Dark Lord as he took Severus’ hand and tugged him along. They went to Severus’ room as usual. Severus hissed as he worked at removing his robes and was grateful when his master vanished them. He started to tire, but kept his footing as his gaze drifted downward. His master was as magnificent as ever, muscular and beautifully erect. 

“You’re tired, Shadow, lie down,” the Dark Lord ordered softly.


End file.
